“We’re lucky you’re always dressed in black, huh?”

  His Master turned to K, a sharp grin on his face. Before them was a muddy hole. Already partway buried. There was no coffin. Only soft, cold flesh meeting a hard bed of soil.

  As a member of the Triads— Sunren would receive no wake nor ritual.

  The man was afforded a small patch of land in some forgotten lot. Where the cityscape of Tianxia was briefly cut up by abandoned parks and ratty foliage.

  There were three mourners currently present: K, Banzai, and the aged caretaker who was shoveling dirt into the hole.

  K hadn’t even seen the body.

  ‘That doesn’t matter. You’ll be joining him soon.’

  K stepped up to the hole, facing his back to it. “It’s been an honor serving you, sir.”

  K understood how he ought to feel at this moment.

  Immense disappointment in himself. The thought that— If he had only finished 500 more missions, he may have gotten to the truth behind the Beast’s Blessing.

  What Hun truly was. Who had given him the Beast in the first place. The same old song:

  Revenge, revenge, revenge.

  Now K would have to die. All because of that Enforcer, his own brother—

  “Empty platitudes don’t please me, Kizuna. You should know that,” Banzai sighed heavily.

  His Master knew him so well.

  Because K couldn't stand the thought of dying. He hated to imagine the weight of soil atop his body. The loss of his beating heart. The cooling of his own flesh. The Beast, and their shared Blessing— dying along with him.

  It would be a waste to throw away such power.

  If K were to die— he’d fight against the end with all he could muster.

  K shook his head, still playing along with the facade. “I can’t plead for my life. Since Sunren is dead, there is no way to control my power. I’m a bomb waiting to be detonated. A liability to the Triads.”

  ‘Free,’ Hun hissed.

  “Now, now. I never said that,” with a flourish, Banzai reached into his blazer’s pocket. “Sunren was never special, you know.”

  K peered down at what his boss was holding. It was Sunren’s bone flute.

  “This is where Sunren’s power lay,” Banzai began to explain, spinning the flute in circles like it was a baton. “The man didn’t have a Path— all he needed to do was play this flute to save you.”

  He tossed the flute in the air, letting K catch it in his own hand.

  He weighed the heavy bone in his palm. It was the first time he had ever touched the divine object, but he felt no Cultivational power emanating from it.

  Hun tsked, ‘You can’t play it for yourself, Sire. Never expect control over the Beast’s Blessing.’

  Banzai continued, “The only reason I chose Sunren to ward you was because he was an accomplished scholar of the Cultivation Arts. I needed him to collect research about Hun and the Beast’s Blessing… that’s all.”

  K narrowed his eyes. “Do you mean…”

  The realization came achingly slow. But when it did, K wished to scold himself for not coming to that conclusion on his own.

  K parted his lips to speak. “You make it sound like you planned to kill Sunren.”

  Banzai shrugged. “All it took was a chiffon cloak.”

  K's blood ran cold.

  That meant that it was within Banzai’s plans to have Chet visit the Guerdon. The Enforcer was meant to find K and Sunren— and kill the latter in the crossfire

  “Why did you do it?” K’s tone was heavy with bloodlust.

  “The man was an accomplished researcher… but he wasn’t powerful. He carried no Path and his own Cultivational abilities were weak.” Banzai stepped closer and took the bone flute from K. The boy let him have it, knowing better than to cause a fight. “Above all, I value power.”

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  K listened to the steady thumping of the shovel into the soil. Thump, thump, thump.

  It matched his heartbeat, trained to keep calm as he said, “And you offered me the Guerdon on the same day Sunren was sent to his death.”

  Banzai leered, proud of his observation. “We are entering a new era, Kizuna. One that demands change… and I wish to be its harbinger.”

  K’s eyes narrowed, defiant still. “You didn’t need to kill him.”

  “Oh, but I did. Sunren knew too much to be set free from the Triads,” Banzai carelessly waved a hand.

  There was a connotation, hidden there— one that K despised. The thought that once their deal was done and K had accomplished all 1000 missions; Banzai would merely kill him.

  ‘We have seen too much. We know too much.’

  “Besides, your new warden is much stronger.”

  K grew stiff. “My… new warden?”

  “Why, the man who will wield this flute, of course.”

  K ran through the steps of Banzai’s plan before the man could state them aloud.

  If Sunren was killed on the day of K’s great ‘promotion’, the very day he had been granted ownership of an entire dance hall—

  “I assume that this has something to do with my last mission.”

  ‘The 500th.’

  “Right on the money, kiddo. After your last mission, the Guos have been real happy.” Banzai hounded over K. It made the boy stand precariously over the edge of Sunren’s grave.

  “Now, our partnership is even stronger. But if we want to retaliate against the Langs, we need better intelligence— more than just one spy. More than the Golden Phantom.”

  “…Sir?” K whispered.

  “I bought the Guerdon to be your headquarters. Among the employees there, I have selected 8 to work with you and aid you in all future missions.”

  Banzai continued to explain with a wave of his hand. “Most of them are children, around your age… the most formative years for a Cultivator.”

  K felt all the color drain from his face.

  “Among them is Mr. Yoon, the current owner of the Guerdon— in the papers, at least.” Banzai pulled open the collar flaps of K’s frock coat, slipping the bone flute within. “And his younger cousin Pachinko, the Master of Ceremonies, is your new warden. Make sure to give him that flute.”

  Banzai winked, and K felt shame creep upon him.

  ‘A mongrel whose leash was being passed to a new owner.’

  “I’ve never worked with a team before,” K hissed.

  Banzai rolled his eyes. “There’s a first for everything.”

  “Sir, I have never once failed a mission— these rookies could drag me down. I don’t need them. Just—”

  The words were caught in his throat when Banzai grasped K by the neck.

  With one push, he was holding K above the 6-foot deep hole.

  Dropped within, the dirt walls would be slippery. They’d crumble at the slightest touch.

  There would be no escape for him, and he’d starve.

  If the old man blithely filling the hole didn’t bury him alive first, that is.

  “The new missions you will face cannot be accomplished by you, alone.” Banzai said sharply. “Yap again and I’ll make sure you join Sunren.”

  It would be so easy to kill the man.

  Hun had whispered the possibility many times to him before. Each time, K quieted the Beast and let the thought quell.

  Banzai’s death meant no answers. Banzai’s death meant the loss of one aspect of K’s life where he was not shunned for housing the Blessing.

  For now, the man lived— and K swallowed his abuse like a bitter tincture.

  It was medicine, a salve for his pride. His humanity.

  K would rather bow his head and work like a dog for the slightest taste of merit.

  He choked out a reply.

  “Yes… sir.”

  Banzai smiled, as if K had just performed some impressive trick. “You begin tomorrow. Head to the Guerdon at 9 AM sharp to meet with Pachinko and the rest of your team.”

  “Yes, sir,” K repeated, drained.

  His knees were trembling when Banzai set him back atop solid ground. The man turned, preparing to leave— but not before he shoved some thin sheets of paper into K’s hands.

  “Here, burn these joss papers at the stone burner over there,” Banzai imparted the order like a secret. “We don’t want Sunren coming back to haunt us, do we?”

  That was the last thing he said before he whirled away, disappearing into the wild brush of grass and rotten trees, which led out to the forlorn outer streets of Tianxia.

  K spared one last look at the deep hole, before obeying his Master’s orders.

  The thought of working with a team— becoming their leader, nonetheless… made K’s stomach seize. He wondered if he would vomit.

  ‘They could jeopardize us, Sire.’

  The possibilities were endless.

  They could form a mutiny and rat him out to the Militia for some scraps of prize money.

  Or even worse, they might prove to be ineffective towards K's cause. Wasteful bags of meat that K had to shelter from bullets or save from raging enemies.

  K's chances of learning more about the Beast's Blessing could slip through his fingers.

  K shuddered at the thought, pushing it to the back of his mind as he neared a massive masonry burner.

  It was the only evidence of this plot being a cemetery. That, and the measly maintenance shed backed to the property’s stone walls.

  Regardless, there were hardly any offerings. Moss and wild vines slithered through the stone fissures. A lone incense stick remained burning, and the smoke was a sad little wisp.

  K stood by its center, pressing the joss paper Banzai handed him to the burning tip of the incense stick. It took a moment, but it caught fire eventually.

  He watched as the flames ate away at the paper, falling to ash at his feet.

  Behind him, the foliage crunched—

  “I heard everything.”

  K jolted at the voice, before he was grabbed by the lapels and pinned against the rough stone of the burner.

  It was the Enforcer— Chet.

  ‘Ah, your dear brother.’